


Night Talks

by KseniyaChe



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, Episode: s02e06 The High Road, F/M, Feelings, Fix-It, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KseniyaChe/pseuds/KseniyaChe
Summary: John and Zoe play poker and have heart-to-heart conversations.
Relationships: Zoe Morgan/John Reese
Kudos: 8





	Night Talks

Zoe turned away from the window.

“It seems done for today. Our wards are at home.”

“What are we going to do?” She asked some time later when John didn’t respond. She stepped away from her observation post and stood with her arms crossed over her chest at the table at which Reese was sitting, going through his arsenal. John shot a quick glance at his partner and went back to checking one of the pistols for fighting abilities.

“Oh, John, it's so fun with you,” Zoe looked disapprovingly at the man.

“What’s your offer?” he asked indifferently, without distracting from his work.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, and John finally looked up from the weapon and looked at her directly. Zoe loved these silent dialogues by their glances. When it’s easy to imagine that there is something more hidden behind his gaze. And she might think that she is interesting to him not only as a smart partner. However, these were somewhat dangerous thoughts, so Zoe gave up on them. “Any ideas? How do people here generally have fun?”

John shrugged, leaving it to her to decide.

Zoe sighed and walked over to one of the boxes with which they were moving to the suburban house. It was the only box with the inscription: “Caution! Fragile!” On her way, Zoe took a knife from the table with a spectacular clang, so that John's eyebrows went up and down in surprise for just a split second, and quickly slashed at the tape.

With an unmistakable movement, she fished out into the light of day a small metal case and, without taking her eyes off the man who was silently watching her, walked over to the table, knocking wide heels on the parquet floor. Zoe lowered the briefcase in front of John with a loud thump, standing next to him. Fingers deftly clicked on the lock, the lid swung open to reveal rows of neatly folded chips and two decks of cards. Zoe bent down so her head was level with John's.

“What do you say?” she said quietly, enveloping, almost in a whisper. “Game?”

The man turned his face to her, behind the mask of which she could discern interest and excitement. Zoe suddenly thought that their faces were too close now, and she saw dark turquoise specks in his gray eyes, felt the scent of lotion from his clean-shaven cheek.

“And do you have there,” John pulled away slightly and nodded at the boxes, “something stronger?”

Zoe smiled and looked at him condescendingly.

“You offend me, John,” she sang and stood up, lightly brushing her hair against his cheek. Was it her imagination, or did his nostrils flutter slightly, drawing in the scent of her perfume? Does he guess what excites somewhere at the very bottom of her soul? Does he feel the same?.. It doesn't matter. If she wants, she will get him. But so far so good. Something like friendship and partnership.

She went back to the boxes and from the same one that contained the poker set she fished out a bottle of whiskey, a couple of glasses, and a small case of cigars.

“Zoe, I must admit,” John remarked with amazement, taking it all from her hands and placing on the table, “you’re well prepared.”

“Yes,” she answered smugly, looking into the refrigerator, in which there was only ice and a treat brought by a neighbor. “Unlike you, hubby.”

John grunted in response and poured the whiskey into the glasses as Zoe tossed ice cubes at them.

“Deal the cards, John. At least you can do that?” Zoe took a sip.

“You underestimate me.”

About half an hour later, Zoe once again laid out the winning combination of cards on the table and sighed.

“I hoped that you would play better, dear,” she suddenly decided that it would be funny to apply to him the affectionate nicknames that spouses usually use - when else will such a chance fall?

John looked at her Royal Flush in annoyance. 

“Hmm,” he drawled. “I'm not lucky today.”

“If you’re not lucky with cards, so you’ll be lucky in love? Yes, John?”

His lips tightened than usual. Zoe saw him swallow and fidget in his chair. She knew it wasn't because of her. Judging by the darkened look, this is something from the past. The past that she, Zoe Morgan, knew absolutely nothing about.

“It's just that the card doesn't work today,” Reese shrugged, apparently not wanting to touch on the painful topic and moving into neutral waters. Zoe smirked to herself: let him think up what he wants, but she sees right through him.

“No offense, John, but you have it all written on your face.”

“Oh really?” and here it is — this half-smile with the corners of the lips and the turn of the head, which she liked so much. Zoe was ready to do everything to see him like this again and again. But no, she can't. It won't take long to lose her head. And she was not going to lose her at all.

Maybe it's the whiskey or that cigar smoke and smells reminiscent of some semi-basement indoor poker club. Zoe didn't know why, but he suddenly said:

“And you're incredible.”

It was her turn to be surprised. John was stingy with compliments. Not stingy actually, he didn't say them at all, apparently saving them for someone special. Zoe raised an eyebrow, struggling to keep from smiling.

“I'm serious,” John continued calmly, looking into her eyes. “I've never met a woman who is so good at poker. You’ve learned to bluff perfectly.”

Warmth spilled over Zoe, in half with searing cold. She would like what he said to have some meaning and weight. Or to make it "incredible" to treat her like a woman. But she also knew that his words would not change anything in their relationship. They are partners and colleagues who help each other in difficult cases. In general, Reese was talking about poker, not about herself. So she shouldn't be Zoe Morgan if she lets the longing for the impossible take over her. She silently held the gaze of his gray in the twilight eyes, and then put the empty glass aside, hiding her hands under the table, squeezing her fingers with force. The ring's diamond scraped painfully against her skin, and she pulled one hand away from the other.

“Have you been married?” Zoe asked suddenly, watching him pour the whiskey into the glasses again. His cigar was smoking on the table, and the woman tried to imagine what the kiss would be like now, when they were both relaxed, a little under the influence of alcohol and tobacco, and not under the gun of the bad guys.

“No,” John answered after a moment.

“And I was married,” Zoe said quietly, picking up a glass and looking at the amber liquid poured in it. She raised her eyes and met his gaze. “And what surprises you so?”

“In your dossier…” he began.

“My dossier is carefully checked. There is not a single unwanted word. And believe me, mistakes of youth should not be included in the resume.”

“So it was a mistake?” John asked after a short pause.

The cards were abandoned. Bear snored somewhere in the corner. The dim light made the moment almost intimate. Thick tobacco smoke stood between the man and the woman, covering everything with fog. Including memories. Why not open up today? Still, albeit fictitious, but she is his "wife".

Zoe leaned back in her chair, stretching her shapely legs in tight jeans. She looked at John, choosing her words. No, her chosen one then was not at all like the man who was now sitting in front of her. And it's not that it was about fifteen years ago. She was just different then. Naive, young.

“We met in college at a party. He was not very tall, blond. His eyes were so blue. We were both twenty. And he knew how to make me laugh like no one else ever.” Zoe fell silent, her gaze rushed somewhere into the distance, through the walls and heaps of unnecessary boxes, imitating their move and the beginning of a new page in life. “We got married just two months later. Can you imagine?” the brown eyes flashed disbelief that it all happened.

“With difficulty,” John was not going to hide his surprise. He changed his position, leaning slightly forward, and did not take his eyes off his partner.

“Early days, you know,” Zoe said philosophically.

“And what happened? Why did you break up?” he asked, and then hastily added: “Or are you still married, just carefully hide it?”

“Answering the first question: life happened to us, John. Laughing together is great. But you can’t eat laughter,” she waved her hand, wanting to change the subject. “Never mind. You never know why people break up. And answering your last question…” she smiled and showed the ring on her finger. “I’m married now.”

“I'm a bad husband. I don't even know how to entertain my wife.”

Zoe bit her lip on the inside and lowered her eyes: she knows perfectly what she could do with him besides poker and whiskey, but… 

“Did you love him?” John asked suddenly. “Your husband?”

“Did I? I don't know.” Zoe shrugged. “Hardly. Now I think not. But I was madly in love — yes.”

She blinked at the visions of the past and looked directly at the man.

“Well, what about you? I bet your story is much more tragic.”

“You are, as always, very perceptive, Zoe,” John reached for the bottle again. “But let's not talk about it.”

Zoe grunted sadly: well, of course, will he share something intimate in response? No, of course not.

She finished her glass in one gulp and stood up resolutely. Now the main thing is not to yield to impulses, not to let the offense at his isolation spoil her mood. Do not allow secret (sometimes even for herself) desires to break through. Don't let this man get further into her thoughts.

Zoe stood looking down at John, asking herself a question she already knew the answer to: could they be something more than just partners in a few cases? Stop! — she ordered herself. Rule number one — no affections. Rule number two — be yourself. Rule number three — never humiliate yourself.

“I go to bed, John. Wake me up if there is something important.”

And Zoe headed for the stairs. But before she had time to make two steps, a firm man's palm caught her hand. Zoe looked questioningly at John.

“You're incredible,” he repeated his compliment. “And I'm not talking about poker now.”

She was silent.

“Don't let anyone make you doubt it. Nobody!”

Zoe didn't respond. Now she was almost angry. And on him, and on herself.

“You understood me?”

“Yes. Thanks for the advice,” she said dryly. “Can I go now?”

“Of course,” John released her hand. “Good night.”

Zoe climbed the steps, not turning around and trying to chase away unwelcome feelings. She didn’t see John looking after her. And she certainly didn't hear him mumble very quietly: "Maybe in another life…"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I love chemistry between those two. Wish they could be together.


End file.
